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He stopped and looked back at me with eyes that said 'duh?' "I'm wearing a suit, similar in brand to literally all of the dead menthere. What do you think would be their reaction to the only living person in the bunch?”
“Medical aid at least.” I sneered. He ignored my sarcastic comment and continued limping to the secluded car park reserved for VIP guests. I could've guessed as much. Like the French gamblers I played with earlier, it was always the rich ones that like starting trouble. It was almost as though they had explored all aspects of life that money could afford but violence.
"What about my dad?" My voice broke as I talked. "He had no reason to die. He never even came here till today."
"I didn't kill your father."
"You can't be sure of that."
"The bullet hole on his skull was too big to be made from mine. That's a bullet hole from a Red hawk or something similar. Mine's a regular Glock."
"What's going to happen to him?" I couldn't help the sudden pathetic feeling that gripped me. I felt so empty realizing that I was all alone now. There was no one for me in the entirety of New York City or the United States for that matter. I asked the most important question now with a frail voice. "What's going to happen to me?"
He answered in a matter-of-fact manner, instructing me like one would a child. "Oh, that's easy. Just go home, freshen up, go laterin the morning or whenever to claim the body for burial. Or you can leave it to the state. Whichever suits you."
Again, in a small voice, almost a whisper, I mouthed the words, "I can't."
He must've heard me because he stopped and turned back. "What do you mean?"
So, he did hear me.
"I can't go back," I reiterated.
"Why not? You don't have a house? You can go to your dad's, you know...now he's dead."
"What? No! It's not that... it's just... it's just really complicated...I can't go back home. There's nothing there. This is all because of you and your stupid gang violence shit!"
It's true. The moment my dad died, everything ended for me. All the money he saved to send me to college, he used to mortgage a house when I eventually didn't get in and didn't show interest in trying again. He wasn't even done with the payment yet. As a factory worker and an immigrant, he hadn't reached the number of years he was worthy to begin collecting a pension, so he didn't have anything but his salary to keep him going. To keep us going. My own salary was barely enough to get me the things I needed, compiled with the fact that I'd have gambled it away within the next two weeks from the time it was paid; I was practically hopeless. Now, even the six hundred and somethingbucks I had swindled from the last gamble I made was gone in the commotion and I wasn't particularly keen on going back in there. It'd be gone by now anyways.
He took a long look at my pathetic form before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning loudly.
"Do you know first aid?"
"Wait...I don't think I know up to this level..." I answered, instantly deducing that he wanted me to treat his wounds.
"It'll have to do. Come on." He waved me in the direction of his car. If I weren't in such a state of numb shock, I'd have screamed in delight at the Lamborghini Urus that beeped twice when he pressed his key.
He grunted in pain as he bent to enter the car.
"Wait!" I commanded. "We need to stop the bleeding first."
"Enter the car, tiger." He growled and bent to enter but it seemed the pain became unbearable at some point. He hollered when he sat and gasped heavily.
"That's it!" I moved to the other side of the car and pried the door open, when he tried to close it to prevent me from entering, winning the tug due to his worsening wounds. I bent down to examine his arm. It was the heaviest bleeder. The bullet went straight through his bicep, tearing through the muscleand maybe touching the bone. I quickly tore a sleeve from my sweatshirt with great difficulty, much to my displeasure - I loved that sweatshirt - and used it to wrap tightly around the bleeding wound.
"There," I heaved after about a minute of grueling work. "That should hold most of the blood in."
I looked at him and tried to make out his features in the dim light. One thing was certain. He was young. Aside from that, I'd have to make any judgment in better lighting conditions.
"Get in the car before I drive off without you." He threatened and pushed the start button, roaring the car to life. I scuttled to the other side and slumped into the passenger seat before he zoomed off into the night.
The only thing I could tell about where we were going was that it wasn't my house. I didn't keep track of how much time had passed or how many turns he made, but it wasn't so long before he slowed the car to a stop in front of a luxurious apartment complex. I wasn't surprised. He parked his car in the basement garage, and we made our way to the reception. He greeted the night security who regarded him with reverence, completely ignoring the fact that he was six hours away from death, before leading me to the elevator. Time seemed to pass slowly. Slowly enough for me to observe his face now. He was brown-haired and slim-faced, the kind that comes from exercise. Speaking of which, I noticed in the car that he really was packing quite a generous amount of muscle. I couldn't see his face too clearly in the elevator, but when we got out and moved around, I was able to get glimpses. He was gorgeous. His face, apart from the hairon his head that lined into a thin teddy, was devoid of any facial hair and he was gigantic. I wasn't a short person, boasting an incredible five-eleven, but still, he dwarfed me.
When we entered his apartment, I finally found something more beautiful than his face. The entire thing was accented gray and black with splotches of white to keep the ambiance of the place. I didn't have much time to gawk at the place though.
"We need to heal your wounds now. Go get a first aid kit." I instructed him. He obeyed without hesitation and was back in barely a minute with a briefcase-like box. He eagerly sat down and waited for me to prepare myself.
"This is a disclaimer. If you die or enter into a coma, I have told you. I am by no means a professional. I do not know and don't see myself as capable eno..."
